47. Reporting Back.
Once back at base I am escorted to our room. Dekka 3 is already there but ignores my entrance completely. I, as I have been taught to do, ignore him too.
I get changed straight back into my uniform and fold the clothes neatly, ready to return them. I will keep the jacket and the glasses; the rest I do not want.
Once back in tracksuit and runners I make my way to the firing range to return my weapon. The range officer appears surprised to see me back there so soon but does not say anything as he signs the gun back in. He acknowledges the fact that one of the two bullets have been returned with it.
Dekka 1 is also back in the room when I return. He has not got back into his uniform but is just laying on top of his bed staring upwards. He looks different out of his uniform, more human. I see a gun similar to mine on the bed beside him. He has not been as diligent as me in returning it.
I lay on my bed for what must be hours, going over the mission in my head. I have a clinical view of the whole thing. I analyse my actions with total dispassion and cannot think of anything I did that I would change. I believe my mission to have been perfectly executed.
My belief is reaffirmed when I am escorted to a different room with the other Dekkas. This is a bigger room with a bigger desk and a smaller man sitting behind it. This room, I notice, has one large window.
We stand in a line and the small man leaves his seat to approach us. He walks along in front of the four of us, apparently carrying out some sort of inspection before returning to his seat. He coughs, clears his throat.
"Well done, Dekkas. Your tasks were all completed perfectly. But then I wouldn't really expect anything less." He gives us a slight smile while we remain staring stony faced towards him.
"You may return to your rooms and carry on as usual until someone comes to pick you up again. I think we may have a surprise for you soon, one that you might actually enjoy."
Perhaps he doesn't realise that enjoyment is an emotion and that us Dekkas have no feelings at all.
As we file out of the room it is time for the canteen. I still look for Marcus but with no expectation of seeing him. Marcus is not there but I do see a table of khaki suits. They must have arrived quite recently. They do not look strong at all but shocked and strained. They have not yet come to accept their new existence.
I spend some time at the firing range, again on my own. It calms me to shoot away at targets. I find it easier to spend my time alone.
Back in our room I lay on top of my bed. As usual I just stare at the ceiling, thinking of absolutely nothing.